


Owned

by aurumdalseni (kyo_chan)



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: D/s, Kink, M/M, bottom!Roy, i really have no excuse for this, what is my life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 13:47:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4831346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyo_chan/pseuds/aurumdalseni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roy finds relief in the most unexpected of places with someone who knows just how to handle him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Owned

**Author's Note:**

> Written as an inbox prompt response on tumblr, someone had the most wonderful thought of HotDad!Greed/Roy with Roy super subby bottom. So, I delivered. Hope you enjoy!

Dublith is a long way to go to get what he needs, but Roy hasn’t found it anywhere else. When he feels trapped by either his circumstances or himself, he leaves town for a couple of days, stows his uniform in the closet of his modest apartment and gets on a train. The only things marking him as Colonel Mustang, as the Flame Alchemist, are the tags around his neck and the gloves he has in his pocket. No matter how many times he’s gone, he’s never needed to use the latter, and no one’s ever looked at his name on the former. He’s anonymous, and he wants it to stay that way.

The train ride leaves him anxious and It’s only by sheer will he goes forward with his shoulders back and spine straight, a good solder even out of uniform. No one would know that every time he comes here, there are butterflies in his belly and horrible thoughts in his head. With any luck, by the time he leaves, they’ll be pushed so far back in his mind, he’ll be able to function properly again. It’s sundown by the time he arrives, and it’s just as well the shadows creep up on him, dogging his steps. Chin up, he arrives shortly after dark, and nods to the bouncer as he steps in to the Devil’s nest.

Roy doesn’t make it to the bar before a possessive arm slides around his waist, fingers curling over his hip and derailing him with a simple pull until he’s pressed up against a larger frame. His chest gets tight, and he chokes on the smoky air of the bar.

“Welcome back, pet,” the man named Greed rumbles against his ear. “Should I get you a drink?”

Roy’s exhales slowly in a stuttered sigh of what he would consider relief, and it ends in the word, “Whiskey.”

“Of course. Just one. You can get all booze-headed after I’m done with you.” A low chuckle that makes Roy’s cock twitch. “If y’even remember you wanted it in the first place.”

He doesn’t trust himself to say anything, letting Greed herd him the rest of the way to the bar, where a short woman with attractive curves, full lips and strong-looking hands moved bottles and glasses around like a pro. She takes one look at them and tosses Roy a smirk before sliding a glass of whiskey across the battered wooden surface. Roy nods his thanks and tosses it back too fast to really enjoy it, but slow enough to feel it burn all the way down. It’s not nearly as effective as the man completely invading his personal space, but it takes the edge off. It burns away the edges of military blue in his vision, muddles the memory of files stacked on his desk and draws him back from the grueling climb to take rest in a dirty alcove of alcohol, cigarette smoke, and his own aching need.

“There’s a good pet. Feelin’ a bit more at home now, are you?”

The hand on his hips drops lower to his ass, and sharp nails dig in through his slacks as Greed squeezes tightly. Another shaky sigh, and Roy nods. He still doesn’t know what to call him yet. He can’t quite wrap his mouth around ‘Sir’ for the other man, and most of the time, it’s just ‘Greed’, but he’s readily accepted what he’s called. It’s so far removed from anything he hears, and it puts him right where he wants to be. The floor.

“Now, tell me what you came here for.”

Roy licks his lips. “I came here so you could fuck me.” He pushes those words out in a steady stream so he doesn’t lose his nerve to say them altogether. As always, they come out more steady than his tumultuous insides would have him expect.

“Fuck you? Or own you?”

Dark eyes flutter closed. “Own me.”

Greed tips his head back and laughs, a triumphant sound Roy can feel all the way down the other’s body, rocking him, weakening his knees. He makes it too easy, perhaps, but he’s here because he’s tired of fighting, came to this place to give in.

“Martel, I’mma be in the back. Make sure we’re not disturbed, eh?”

The woman behind the bar smirks wider, flashes Roy a wink. “You got it, Boss.”

Greed’s hand smacks Roy on the ass, and he knows where he’s supposed to go without being told. It’s automatic, the steps he takes, carrying him to a room that only a man named Greed could have. A bed big enough to dwarf the room, covered in pillows and a cover meant for naked skin to writhe on. A chair that looks more like a throne, a bar with just as many things to choose from as the bar in the common room had to offer. His owner lives up to his name, the best of everything, and Roy almost always thinks he doesn’t belong there.

“Off.”

Roy is already unbuttoning his shirt before the command is given. Quick and efficient, he’s easing into the routine of it so he can shut his mind off. It’s still hissing and spitting at him, but the commotion is getting quieter, and soon there will be no room for it at all. Soon he stands like a center piece with only his tags remaining. Greed circles him, dragging his nails across Mustang’s rigid shoulder blades.

“You’re all fucked up tonight, aren’t you? Tryin’ to forget somethin’ real loud aren’t you?”

A fresh grave on a rainy afternoon flashes behind his eyes and he only stands up straighter, doesn’t answer. Greed laughs again, but this time, it’s a soft chuckle, more at Roy’s unwillingness to talk than anything else. He’ll fix that soon enough.

“Don’ worry, pet. You’ll get what you need. I deal in getting everything, so I’ll make sure you give it to me.”

He steps out of Roy’s range of vision, but he doesn’t turn to look, merely waits. He knows the sound of Greed’s cabinet, feels his heart start hammering against his chest eagerly, racing blood making him stiff, hot under the skin, ready.

“Hands and knees.”

Roy drops, legs opened, exposed. He hears Greed’s footsteps returning to him, and the man crouches down before him, heaving hand clamping down on the back of his neck. His face is pushed to the floor, putting his back in a sharp line, and his expression finally breaks. His cheeks fill with heat, mouth slack as slick fingers probe at him, lube him up, press into him. His eyes roll a little, lids slipping to half-mast by the time Greed replaces his fingers with glass. Roy groans loudly as he’s filled, just deep enough to make him hungry for more, just wide enough to make him burn a little. Greed’s finger circles where he’s stretched as if testing the fit, approving it.

“Good.”

The simple praise drags a whine out of Roy’s throat. Greed slides the hand on his nape into his hair, and he fists it between his fingers, pulling Roy to sit up and gravity does the rest. Another whine becomes a guttural moan as he rolls his hips to grind on what’s inside him.

“Y’want it so bad, just wait. I see it on your face, heard you ask for it.” Greed moves, leaving Roy on display and breathing heavy. The soldier’s hands are limp at his sides, and his features are delightful, already red, lips open and needy. He takes a moment to enjoy the view and Roy eats up the satisfaction on his keeper’s face. Greed rustles through the pile of clothes Roy has left nearby, and he somehow knows the gloves in his pocket aren’t the goal. No, Greed is unthreading his belt from the loops, and the needy noise that fills the room is coming from him. The belt buckle jangles before he wraps the strap around his hand once. “Tell me you—“

“I want it.” Roy is panting, and he barely remembers his manners. “Please.”

The snap of leather to skin is accompanied by white hot pain-to-pleasure stings. Greed is unrelenting, each stroke coming quick after the next. Shoulders, back, hips, ass. Roy doesn’t even need to be told, he drops down to his hands and opens his legs so the belt can leave red-striped kisses along his inner thighs. He clenches around the glass, cock hard and dripping in no time at all. Greed’s lashes light a fire all over his back, and he leans into the burn until it’s almost too much. His owner is demanding all of his senses tonight, won’t settle for less, and he watches carefully as Roy’s face twists, and stops before it’s too much. Roy thinks he could take more, thinks he _deserves_ more, but his sides are heaving, his face is wet. His mind has stopped screaming, thank God, _thank Greed_.

“Thank you.”

“Oh, that wasn’t all,” Greed assures him, but he pets Roy’s hair as if to say he’s welcome, reinforcing how good he is to be striped next to knee in varying shades of red and purple like his master’s eyes. “Hands behind your back.”

Roy is obedient, does as he’s told, breath catching as the pressure inside him shifts with his movements, and he can feel the burn of those marks he’s wearing. The belt goes tight around his wrists, and he’s filled with relief as everything is slowly taken from him. Control, freedom of movement, his anguish, his fears. Greed finishes binding him and comes back around to take hold of Roy’s chin. Dazed, glassy midnight eyes shift upward, hazily focusing on Greed’s face. The other grins with predator teeth at Roy.

“If you want it, you’ll have to get it.” He moves his hand, pushes a leather-clad erection against Roy’s cheek. “Show me you want it, earn it.”

The soldier leans up, and uses his mouth to unfasten the buckle, pays no mind to leaving the leather wet while he wraps his lips around the button to push it free with his tongue, drags the zipper down with his teeth. He’s rewarded with the press of eager flesh as it’s freed, and Roy looks up at Greed, breathing in his musk and licking his lips.

“Please.”

Greed takes hold of his face, pushes his thumb between Roy’s lips and opens his mouth, filling it with his cock. There is no consideration or slow easing in; a roll of his hips and he’s in Mustang’s throat with one stroke that has him gagging, tears jumping to the corners of his eyes. Greed pulls back, and his palm stings across Roy’s cheek.

“You can do better than that, pet. I thought you wanted this.”

In again, Roy chokes, Greed slaps him again, a little harder this time. He can’t think about anything other than being able to take what he’s given, and after a few more attempts, his cheek red and tingling, Greed is settled on his tongue, halfway down his throat, and Roy swallows it.

“Gooooood,” Greed hums, pleasure thick in his voice. “That’s my pet.”

Roy whines again, a good dog, and Greed fucks his throat. It’s good, so good, everything he needs. Airtight, stealing his breath, making his lungs work. Pulling back to lay on his tongue so Roy can work the vein greedily, like he’s been starving for this. Greed’s hand is in his hair, holding him right where he wants him while he rocks his hips. He pulls out, streaks Roy’s lips and cheeks with precum, gives him a taste before going in deep again. Roy hovers over his own pleasure and torment, body aching and taut, so tight around the toy in his ass that it aches. He could come in an instant, but he knows better.

The sudden disappearance of that thick flesh in his mouth is jarring, and he chokes out a sob with halted breath and sore throat. Greed’s already behind him, pushing his shoulders down so he can get to his ass, pull the toy free, leaving Roy completely bereft. He hangs on the empty torture of it, clawing for something, any kind of sensation to remind him he hasn’t been abandoned. Through his foggy vision, he sees Greed taking a seat on his throne, knees jacked open and his erection waiting. The man curls his finger.

“Get on my lap, pet. Come put yourself on me.” His fingers stroke his own cock, an invitation, showing Roy what he wants.

Roy doesn’t care how he looks, shuffling forward on his knees to reach his lover, his arms behind his back making the process slower than he likes. But when he’s close enough, Greed reaches for him, takes him by the upper arms and pulls him. It’s so rare, Roy’s stocky frame so easily lifted by another man. He floats in Greed’s strong hands, spreads his knees to brace himself over his owner’s lap. Where his hands are bound, Roy reaches, spreading his cheeks while Greed lines himself up. This is better, so much fucking better than that toy, Greed thick and hot inside Roy, and he grinds himself until the man is balls deep in him. He revels in the dark, husky sound of Greed’s pleasure, the growling moan everything he needs to know he’s doing what’s expected of him. He’s Greed’s possession now, his plaything, and his sole purpose is to make the man come.

“There’s a good boy.”

Greed doesn’t just sit back and take it, no. He’s an active participant in breaking Roy down completely. His claws leave red furrows in perpendicular crosses over the welts Mustang’s belt left behind. He drags the man’s lean body down to him so he can put his teeth into one shoulder, leave a mark that will remind him for days who he belongs to. If skin is broken here and there, fine lines and sharp points, neither of them could care. Greed knows it’s his right, and Roy needs the proof of this release. Their hips rock and grind, more marks are left on Roy’s chest from a hungry mouth, those scratches going lower and lower, over his cheeks, across his thighs. Greed will leave no part of him unclaimed, all the way down to his ankles and right up to where the collar of Roy’s uniform will cover. He’s marked, he’s full, he’s owned.

Greed is vicious in those height of his pleasure, his final mark on Roy delivered deep inside him, with an ache that will haunt his every step and the trickle of his seed after he comes. It isn’t until he’s spent himself in Roy’s body that he takes Mustang’s waiting, weeping cock in hand and jerks him until his fingers are covered in white, Roy’s head back and shouting his release to the room. He collapses against Greed’s chest, and the man winds his other arm around him while he licks his hand clean.

“Mine,” he growls against the soldier’s ear, and a shudder is his reply. “My pretty pet, so fuckin’ good for me.” He strokes over welts and scratches and drying blood, his tender touches a sharp contrast to all that’s led up to this point. Mustang goes limp and heavy against him, still breathing heavily.

Greed lets Roy linger there, sheathing him as he grows soft, but then lifts him off, chuckling at the protesting whine. “If you’re good, I might fuck you again before you go back.” That seems to do the trick, and Roy settles on his lap, curling up like a well-trained dog under his master’s hand. Greed touches his hair, petting, brushing the corners of Roy’s eyes, where the lines of tension still show despite the utterly boneless way he lays half asleep.

“Hurts to lose one of your possessions,” Greed murmurs, and suddenly, his fingertips are wet. “I know.” His words are well-timed, a deep accompaniment to the darkness reaching up to drag Roy under. How Greed knows, how he understands, isn’t something he can think to ask. By morning, he may not want to, just take comfort in the way he responds. To possess him, fuck away the jagged corners of Roy’s guilt and anger until he can sleep, send him home with marks that keep him calm for days to follow. He comes to Greed so a strong hand can yank his leash, keep him from straying and put him back on the right path.

He tumbles down into sleep in his master’s lap, and he believes he’s safe from the monsters both inside him and out.


End file.
